


Shatter

by Liarde



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Komaeda in chains, slight knife play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-01 12:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liarde/pseuds/Liarde
Summary: I wanna you to burn down.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Куколка](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/244894) by Liarde. 



> I'm glad that I finished translating my own work at last! It took a while but I hope you'll like it.  
> I'm also grateful to Kimium for her help and devote it to her.

_Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you Hate you_

Pain plunges into his head like white-hot needles, tears his mind apart, makes it impossible to think. His throat goes into spasms and he can’t catch his breath. A narrow blade tip freezes barely touching the smooth white skin on her neck.

A cold black gunpoint rests on his forehead. The gaze of her blue eyes, burning with madness, seems to search his heart and turn it inside out. Her lips spreads into a wide smile, revealing even white teeth. But now it looks like a grin of a ruthless predator.

“Nice try, Komaeda-kuuuuun.” says she drawlingly.

There is a suggestion of mockery in her clear enchanting voice. Thin strong fingers hold the pistol grip tight. Therefore, her left hand is free to tousle his hair, then slide down his face – from  his right temple across the cheek to his chin.

_Do not touch me…_

He doesn’t draw back, turn back, or break eye contact. It would mean defeat. He clenches the knife tightly, but for some reason doesn’t throw it into action. Why? What prevents him from doing that? Fear of pain? Fear of death? Some kind of reluctance to put an end to it? To accept that it CAN bring pleasure means to acknowledge his weakness, his insignificance.

_I hate you… what the heck is going on with me then?_

“Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work.” He says calmly, trying to shake off the hypnotic effect that her oppressive aura has on him. “Hope will definitely win, even if I’m dead”.

“Then why are you doing nothing?” Her index finger lying on the trigger strains a bit. She cocked her head slightly with her blond ponytails swinging. “Kill me now, and all that I build will collapse like a castle made of cards.”

“I’ll do it sooner or later, and you’ll experience the Despair you so aspire to.” Was his answer. When walking over a tightrope above the void, it is easy to lose the balance. The bigger the struggle to try and keep on it, the sooner the moment of fall comes. If only someone could put this moment back a little further, just a little bit…

“It will happen; I think.” She sounds rather pensive and dreamy. “But it has nothing to do with you, nonentity lacking the power to plunge me there.”

She giggles, eyes half-closed; she watches him from beneath her lashes. “You’re just a coward constantly looking for excuses.”

Junko grins and leans to his ear ignoring the sharp blade which slightly scratches her neck, gun still in her hand.

“I see you through. Poor little thing. You wanna be valued, wanna be understood by others. You yearn to be important so badly; not for the world, but at least for anyone. But the world is a rather lofty objective, isn’t it? Why not devote your soul to it? You are ridiculous!” she laughs mockingly, and the gun in her hands shakes hysterically. However, the icy calm of Madness shines in her eyes.

He swallows, but takes a deep breath and remains calm, _forces_ himself to remain calm.

“The end justifies the means. I’m not scared. I swear I will stop at nothing to destroy your distorted Despair Universe, but be sure, when it comes to that, I’ll die on my condition.” His tone is calm, cheerful, and perhaps deliberately inspired. Echo of her Despair, of her Madness, of her Ariadne’s thread to nothing reflects in his green grey eyes. He believes in what he says: truly, sincerely, crazy, and naively. Just because he has nothing else. Just because he desperately wants to...

She knows it. Oh, yes, she knows EVERYTHING.

“Oh, sure. You have nothing to lose: no friends, no family, no one who really cares.  It is so easy to imbue yourself with any idea, if you are shallow.”

 She rocks on her heels, strikes weapon from his hand pushing him to the wall. The knife falls on the floor but he doesn’t bend for it. Yet another battle is lost.

“I’m insignificant, it’s true.” He nods. No matter what Enoshima says, no matter what feelings he hides in the abyss of madness devouring him day after day, he won’t lose. He won’t let HER control HIS soul. “But it doesn’t mean that I’m useless”.

 “You are awfully magnificent when you say it. You live in your perfect Hope world.” Junko picks the knife herself, throws gun on the table, approaches him and runs her fingers through his hair. “Or you would like to live there. How does it feel like? To build castles in the air?  

Komaeda doesn’t answer, his hand clenching her wrist painfully, but she only grins like a Cheshire cat and knees him in the stomach. He lets go of her arm, takes a step back and bends over in pain.

“Which needed to be proved.” She says bored. Her posture, her eyes, her facial expression, her manners and gestures: everything shows superiority. “You’re a weakling who is unable to finish what he began. And unless you understand this, you will always be left behind. Oh yeah, I forgot. You're not behind, you're out of the way. You cannot even choose the right direction. You are shallow, a vessel without emotions and ideas. To go at least somewhere, you made up this fairytale of yours. Everything but being alone with your despair. You have no idea what you are striving for. You know nothing about the Hope you praise. It’s nothing more than a Concept, an Icon, an Absolute value for you. Likewise, you could seek Despair. It’s for you to understand at least. And I’m terribly amused by your obsession, which contradicts your nature. I mean… how can someone who never felt Hope aspire towards it?"

He coughs trying to catch his breath. For a moment, world before his eyes whirls and turns black. He wishes he could draw back, but he hears every single word.

“I…felt it… with them.” Gasps he willing to say at least something.

The worst part is that she is right. So many times… so many times he tried to kill her, but always failed. She really sees him through and after every victory she finds the sensitive point he attempts to disguise from her.

 “In fact no.” answers Junko carefree. “You are just an onlooker completely incapable of experiencing those feelings. And you know far too well about your own defectiveness; all you can do is run away, and then come back and flock about like a butterfly, drawn by the bright burning deceptive fire light.”

He keeps silence: discouraged, distressed, and devastated. Again. It happened again. Over and over she destroys him at ease; the Ram of Madness of her madness has just recently ravaged his Fortress of Reason and levelled it to the ground. It’s just a matter of time…

“But upset not. I have something for you.”

He feels her fingers touching his neck, but he is still too disoriented by her words to fend off.  An unpleasant cold touches his skin. There is a soft jingle, and this sound echoes like a bell to him.

Junko deftly ties up the collar on his neck and snaps tricky lock making it impossible for him to unlock it, grabs the chain’s end and pulls it over abruptly.

Komaeda falls on his knees. Gradually abating pain comes back. He looks up and their eyes meet. She seems to understand the depths of his madness: he realizes that he looks into eyes of his own reflection.

He hates her like poison, he desires to see her slowly and painfully dying, he dreams of watching her bones breaking, her guts falling out of her still warm body.

“This is where you belong” She looks down on him, mocking superiority being written all over her face. She seems to have great fun though. “You’re nothing, Komaeda; rejected by the world and by everyone, even by you f-r-i-e-n-d-s or who you considered your beloved classmates? The sooner you accept it, the easier your life will be.”

“And what if I refuse?” answers he with a sweet smile, eyes half-closed. He wishes he could _really_ be flippant. He wishes he could cope with this suffocating fear he hates almost stronger than HER. He wishes he could object, throw a fit or explode with hysterical laughter – anything, just to feel better for a moment.

_Dammit! Why? Why can’t I be stronger? Why victory is always hers?! Why does she always look down?! Why won’t she finish me off at last?!_

But he says nothing.

 “You know the answer.” She gently leads the knife’s blade against his cheek, pushing the handle a bit. He winces but makes no attempts to draw back. Three words. Three words like the ultimate answer to all the questions tormenting him. She seems to read his thoughts, foresee everything that might cross his mind well in advance. Is he really so predictable?

 “Your eyes, your awkward movements, your facial expression - everything gives yourself away. You can’t control your own body at all. So…you wanna refuse, don’t you?”

Junko presses the pad of her finger against the knife’s sharp point, her face not changing when blood appears. The tranquil gaze of her blue eyes is clear and cold like the mountain river, but a barely visible red sparks smolder somewhere deep in there.

This is the First warning, a slight hint that if he tries something, she’ll get mad. She gets REALLY mad rarely. Despite the apparent weakness, she could hold her own without her sister around. When Enoshima Junko loses her temper, there are consequences. Her temper is unpredictable and the results can vary for the poor soul who got her mad.

“I wanna you to burn down” She buries her hand in his hair again and pulls making him stand up. Even if he wants to resist, he cannot get underway, as though he is paralyzed, his body is shaking, eyes wide open. Not a sound seems to be uttered aloud, words echoing in his own head.

“I wanna you to break free and get lost in nothingness. I wanna play hell with you, smash you to pieces and then use the parts of you to set you up as I desire. I wanna pluck your soul out and fold it. I wanna cut it up until there is nothing left of you. I wanna see how shallow you are, Komaeda.”

The blade pressed to his lips, cooling them as the blade kissed the skin. It slides right, then left, then slides against his lips, rests against the teeth and freezes. “I want you to finally see who you really are. I wanna let _you_ go”.

He is still looking at her quietly, a little bit indifferently with his eyes growing blank. Yet, a small fire lights up inside: wishing to devour and abolish everything that doesn’t fit into its frames. The scarlet shining of sparkling Despair and the faded light of Hope; the blood sprinkled earth of Hatred and scorched wasteland of Love: the boundless blueness of Freedom and winding underground corridors of Slavery.

No giving up. No running away. No keeping silent and smiling. No hiding behind the mask. No causing distress. No keeping out. At least once ... dammit… just once he has to do something himself; to not go with the tide of his Luck, to not smile at his tormentors’ faces, to not say “everything goes according to the plan.”

Just once…just once…

_I want them not looking at me as if I’m a nuisance. I want someone to notice me. I want to fit in. I want to trust someone. I want to be really useful. I want to smile them for no reason. I want to be happy. I want to live. I want_ …

Do not hide… do not hide ... do not hide ... do not hide... do not hide ... do not hide… do not hide ... do not hide… do not hide… do not hide ...

Words are tossing around in his head like wounded birds seeking their way to break free and he is lost and helpless to comprehend which belongs to him, and which fall from her lips. His breathing is wavy and heavy. His heart is thumping like it is wearing an engine. His long trembling fingers clasp the collar, pull it away in a ridiculous, pointless attempt to take it off. The familiar mocking laughter is heard from afar and reflected from the infinite number of reflections in his soul. The world shrinks to the small chamber in the basement, and cracks like an old mirror that has long served its sentence and is the subject to destruction.

“Come out-come out, wherever you are…Servant!” - intones Junko, her lips slightly touching his.

And the glass splinters to hundred thousands of fragments.

 


End file.
